Leaving the light behind (Little River Spring, Suwannee River) |
Silence. Followed by the distant rumble of what sounds like thunder
and the refreshing sound of a loud inhale and a burst of bubbles, escaping upwards
but suddenly halted by rock. Overflowing the holes in the ceiling, some run
laterally and combine in force to move out the tunnel, gliding along the
ceiling and causing what I now realize is a noise made not by thunder but by bubbles.
With one sweep of the powerful light on my hand, what
started as total darkness turns into a brilliant display of yellows, browns,
blacks, and oranges. What started as a small, shallow opening in the limestone
rock of a spring opens up to massive underwater rooms and tunnels that run for
miles.
I am in the veins of the earth, the underworld. I am not in
the river, but below the river, swimming in a place so unique that it is known
as the cave diving heart of the world. Where water flows out of Florida’s
magnificent springs is amazing – but what is even more fascinating is to swim
through the pathways the water takes before it emerges at a spring. There are
so many winding, connected, dead-ending, deep, shallow, silty, rocky, and sandy
tunnels – the possibilities are almost endless, yet what we’ve explored is only
a tiny fraction of what exists.
Cave map of the Devil's Eye system (all you see above water is the Santa Fe River!). |
In the cave, we are surrounded by our life support. Having
gills would be much easier, but instead, 2 steel tanks are clipped and bungeed
to my sides, lights, reels, and spools are clipped to my BC, and my pockets are
stuffed with spare lights – almost 100 lbs of gear at the surface but
weightless underwater. The water is so clear that it feels like you’re flying –
it’s as if you’re kicking through thin air but somehow being propelled forward.
I’m grabbing rocks in the sky and pulling through flow that feels like a strong
wind.
Without my light, there is total darkness. Not darkness like
walking on the street at night or sitting under the stars. This is darkness
like you can’t tell if your eyes are opened or closed – darkness like you’ve shut
yourself in a closet… with a blanket on your head. It’s so dark because we’re
doing a lights out drill – practice for finding the entrance in the event of a
silt-out or unlikely loss of all 3 sources of light you carry (one primary
source and 2 backups). My eyes closed, going with the flow, holding on to the
guideline with one hand and keeping the other out in front of my face to make
sure my face doesn’t meet any unexpected rocks or sudden turns of the tunnel.
The guideline leads to a safe exit and is marked every so often by directional
markers or “line arrows” (these always point to the closest exit) – in the
dark, if you feel the line arrow, fat end first then tapering smaller, it means
you’re heading out towards the exit.
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I am now writing this as a certified cave diver – 14 dives
later totaling about 600 minutes of bottom time. Every evening after class, I
would jot down some of the things I felt in the cave, just so they were fresh
in my mind, and that is the semi-abstract beginning of this post. It’s very
difficult to describe what it feels like to be swimming in tunnels underground and even harder
to capture what it looks like combined with how it feels using photography or a video.
Disappearing through "The Lips" at Ginnie. |
We spent the first few days in relatively “large”, non-silty
tunnels (aka not swimming through places where you have to really squeeze
yourself… but still not exactly spots you’d like to find yourself if you get
claustrophobic). And on the fourth day, we explored a side tunnel at Ginnie
Springs that gave me my first experience doing what I thought only the crazies
did – attempting to squeeze my body through small, oddly-shaped tunnels of rock
– for fun.
One of my favorite things to do while swimming is shine my
light at the trapped air pockets on the ceiling and look at the reflection in
the sand below. It looks like a disco ball reflection or one of those window
crystals with huge beams of light shimmering and glowing on the bottom of an
otherwise pitch-dark tunnel. It’s as if the sun is penetrating 90 feet through
the limestone and dirt and setting the stage for a silent disco.
I always looked at cave divers and wondered what in the
world could be so amazing that was worth lugging tanks, endless equipment, and
wearing a drysuit in the middle of a 100-degree summer day. This wonder turned
into a need to know the longer I
lived in Florida. Swimming and free diving in springs all over the state
throughout the past almost two years gave me a little taste – along with
watching amazing youtube videos of cave dives. But nothing can prepare you for
the feeling of being in a cave – silent except for cave noises, barren except
for the most amazing little fish, crustaceans, and other fleeting cave
organisms, and totally dark yet brilliant with your light.
Pallid cave shrimp (one of the relatively few organisms you'll see in a cave). |
Dark, yet brilliant with light. This is me illuminating a passage at Little River. |
New sign at Amigos... so many choices! |
Throughout my cave class, I learned a lot about the gear
part too, mostly from watching Harry and learning from his many years of
experience in the water. Harry rigged up a little DiveRite Nomad BC for me so
that I could try sidemount for the first time in the Ginnie cavern. After two
days of diving with that BC (with heavy steel tanks) and not really being able
to generate sufficient lift without looking like a turtle with a fully inflated
BC at less than 70 feet, he was able to put my DiveRite Transpac back plate
with a new, bigger wing, and attach a butt plate for my own custom harness. And
this was all done using tools and spare pieces in the back of his blue jeep
while standing in the hot sun at Amigos Dive Center – I have so much more to
learn!
Harry swimming back down to the cave at Olson Sink (at Wes Skiles Peacock State Park). |
This is Amigos, where we filled all of our tanks! These yellow bottles have Nitrox in them (which just means that it has a higher amount of oxygen than the normal 20.9% in the air we breathe). |
Throughout my training, we dove at Ginnie, Little River, and
Peacock. Each system is incredibly unique and interesting in it’s own way. I am
beyond excited to be certified so that I can keep learning, exploring, and
hopefully combine my love for diving with my curiosity about the springs,
geology, and ecology as I devise a dissertation plan!
Since I was focusing on learning skills, doing drills, and
checking my equipment, I only brought Greg’s GoPro in the water for the last
two days of class, so I don’t have many photos. Thankfully, Harry brought a
GoPro along most days and took some neat videos (and they were helpful for me
in terms of body positioning, watching myself run reels, etc). I took some
stills from the under/above water video I shot as well as a few from the underwater
videos he shot of me and made a little album called Cave Class! on Facebook :)
Above the cave at Peacock. |
Lesson in southern culture above water at Little River. |
Quiet day at Ginnie Springs. |
And finally here are links to the three videos Harry posted on
YouTuble (the first one is the best… he recorded
it on our last dive for my certification at Ginnie):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwE_qQ3p6Ik
- UK Aqualite Video Test
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6KR5UhjoSY
- Exiting Devil’s Eye
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6LcWkd9XBI
- Olson to Peacock… in snow